


No regrets

by honeybee592



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, Cunnilingus, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 23:25:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1406470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybee592/pseuds/honeybee592
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the night before the Normandy reaches the Sol System and joins the fight to take back Earth. It's James' last chance to make his feelings known to Shepard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No regrets

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to my beta reader for fixing this up and reassuring me!

James knew this was it. They all did. You could feel it in the air: the desperation, the doubt, the fear. Made everyone a little bit loco. He’d seen it on other tours. Soldiers recording their last messages to wives or husbands, their children. Drinking just a bit more than they should. Avoiding their bunks, an attempt to slow time by not sleeping, despite knowing they’d be up early the next morning. Some stuffed their faces with all the food they could; it’d be their last big meal for a while. Others hooked up. That was the best way to deal with the tension. But you needed someone else who felt the same way.

Tension had been running high before Shepard, James and EDI infiltrated Cronos Station. But once Shepard had stormed back on board and ordered Joker to fly home, the tension ratcheted up to a whole new level. There’d been more than a few couples giving each other looks over the last few days, building up the courage to make that move, knowing it could well be the last time they’d ever get laid, let alone see the object of their affection again. And now with the Normandy hitting FTL, making a non-stop trip back to the Sol system, the crew were making the most of what little time they had left.

James was not one of those lucky ones though. He lay on his back in his bed, eyes wide open, staring at nothing in the dark.

One of the ensigns was sobbing softly in his own bunk somewhere across the room. James should’ve gone over there, or at least called out. But he hadn’t. He was too wrapped up in his own feelings of the inevitable. Regret churned through him. Regret for things he had done. Regret for things he hadn’t.

The door slid open, light from the hallway flooding the crew quarters. A shadow slipped in, then the doors closed again. That made tonight’s total seven out of the twenty two beds available in this room. Seemed like quite a few were holed up in some corner of the ship relieving the tension as quietly as they could. Some would come back to their beds afterwards. Some would stay in each other’s arms, relying on their omni-tool alarms to wake them come morning.

While James lay back, his thoughts naturally drifted to Shepard. He’d started from the beginning, from their first meeting. He’d stood there gawking at his hero as she scowled back at him. She was smaller than he thought she’d be. Rougher, too. The vids and recruitment posters smoothed her skin, removed the blemishes and wrinkles, darkened her hair, sculpted her eyebrows, turned her into a super human. He preferred the real life version, though she’d kinda scared him at first. She’d warmed to him quickly though; his non-stop banter and flirting eking out grins that just turned his bones to jelly.

The first time they’d sparred together, in the gym of the detention centre, she’d floored him in ten seconds flat. His Neanderthal brain distracted by the play of muscle and skin and the heat in her eyes. He’d never seen her so alive.

He’d gone back to his room afterwards, guiltily shoving his hand down his pants, pretending it was nothing more than adrenaline surging through him.

By the time he’d been dragged onto the Normandy with the Reapers destroying everything around them, he realised it was more than hero worship and wonky hormones. She wasn’t just an amazing soldier and kick-ass commander. She could give as good as she got, often having James up against the ropes, both literal and metaphorical. He kept up his flirting--that was just his way--but would relieve the tension when he could.

After the Citadel coup, after putting down a political insurrection like it was no big deal, like it was something she did every day, he’d gathered the courage go to her cabin. They’d talked about being N7 and about Fehl Prime. He’d been impressed with her cabin but seeing that bed, neatly made with crisp hospital folds, had his mind working overtime. Shepard only made it worse with her unintentional teasing.

He should’ve made his move once he had his N7 tattoo emblazoned proudly on his back. She’d made her interest known enough times by then, but he still couldn’t do it.

He should’ve tried again last night, before they’d hit the Cerberus base. He’d had his chance, sitting with Shepard and EDI in her cabin as they went through EDI and Traynor’s intel. But he’d left when EDI had, desperately ignoring the longing look Shepard shot him.

Now he lay in his own bunk, half hard, wondering about what she was doing right now up there. What he wouldn’t give to have that kind of privacy. Regret for missed opportunities washed over him. He slipped his hand into his boxers, biting his lower lip, wondering just how quiet he could be.

But it was no use. Every snore, every creak, and every sob from those around him had him stilling his hand, too scared to even breathe.

_Fuck it_ . He got up, pulled on some BDUs over his boxers and slipped on a tee. He didn’t bother with socks. Couldn’t find any in the dark anyway and looking would only lessen his resolve. He needed to do this now, before his brain caught up with his dick.

He slipped out the room and over to the elevator. Up. The doors opened quickly.  _First time for everything_ . He only hesitated for a second before pushing the button for Deck 1. The ride was interminable. As he rolled his shoulders he realised too late that he hadn’t brushed his teeth or washed his face or put on clean clothes. He hadn’t even showered after beating his own pull up record earlier. The mind-numbing effort of a workout and keeping count had meant to still his racing mind. And it had. But his muscles could only take so much before the burn and ache threatened to overtake and break him.

The doors opened onto Deck 1. Shepard’s door lock shined red. This was a mistake. She was probably in bed already. Or she was busy going through the intel again. He should just go back to bed, do press ups till his arms collapsed. Indecision wracked his guts. His brain said ‘leave’ while his dick made a half hearted attempt to show him the way.

While still undecided, the lock flashed green and the doors slid open. Shepard stood there, arms folded, a haunted look ghosting over her face. Maybe she feared the inevitable too. He briefly wondered if she had anyone in her arms the night before she took the SR2 through the Omega 4 Relay.

“Get in here, James.” She growled.

It was all James needed. He surged through, engulfing Shepard in his arms, lips meeting hers, desperate, rough. He could barely breathe, only sucking in enough air when they separated to plant burning kisses on cheeks, jaws, necks. None of it was subtle or graceful or romantic. He didn’t care. He needed everything she could give him and he needed to give her everything he had. Her hands traveled up his back, under his tee, pulling the collar tight around his neck. He held on tight, his fingers digging into her hoodie, and her sweatpant covered ass. She tried to pull away, but he didn’t want to let go, scared that if he did he’d wake up in a cold sweat in his own bed. He needed this to be real.

“Off,” she managed between more rough kisses. He felt the words, rather than heard them. But he wasn’t ready to let go yet. So he hoisted her up, making her cling to him. She sat half a head higher than him now and he looked up into those black eyes ringed with bright blue while she held his head between her hands. He liked this view. It was a good view. He tilted his head back, swallowing hard, throat bared, and she ducked her head to kiss him gently.

They continued their kissing while he carried her through her cabin, down to the bed, laying her down softly. His fever had burned out after the initial frenzied burst. She gazed up at him, soft smile and warm eyes. She wanted him here, expected him, it seemed.

Shepard took her moment of freedom to wriggle out of her hoodie and pants before laying back down. James knelt on the end of the bed, dumbstruck, just taking in the view: Shepard naked. He’d caught glimpses of her before while they got changed before and after missions. And she’d regularly worked out and sparred with him in her shorts and sports bra. But here she was now, covered in nothing more than skin.

“Earth to James.” Shepard’s soft voice snapped in his ears, pulling his gaze to meet hers.  _Earth_ . His face darkened and her smile turned to a frown. “James,” she said softly, “come here.”

When he didn’t move, she knelt up, crawling on her knees to join him at the bed end. She kissed him again. And again and again until he came to his senses and kissed her back. She guided his hands to her hips and he held on, hands cupping the peaks, her skin soft under his roughened thumbs. One thumb rubbed slow circles over the dip to her groin, while the other skirted up, taking in the planes of her body. His hand closed softly over her breast and she gasped. He needed more. Now. Letting go, he pulled his shirt up and off, chucking it on top of her discarded clothes.

Shepard pulled him in, wrapped her arms around his middle and pressed her breasts against his bare chest. Oh yes, this is what he needed. Shepard’s hands rested on his hips, fingers dipping under the waistband. She had a questioning look, requesting permission. He pulled back, holding her wrists steady on his hips. His large hands circled hers completely. His eyes searched over her body, picking out undiscovered freckles and scars, and all he wanted was to take his time, trace each spot, commit it all to memory. But he didn’t have that much time. This could be their last night alive and he had to be practical. So he slipped off the bed, shucked his pants and boxers then climbed back on and into Shepard’s waiting arms.

They knelt on the bed, holding each other chest to chest, Shepard leaning into him, falling into his gravity well as he shifted on the mattress. He let out a shuddering breath, overwhelmed with the reality of finally being here with Shepard, the fear of tomorrow still strong in his mind.

“It’s gonna be okay, James.” She cupped his jaw with one hand, smoothed his brow with her other. Her face close to his, searching his eyes till he connected. “Trust me.”

He wanted to trust her. And he wanted to believe her. But he was scared.

“Take me with you,” he said. “Tomorrow. Please. I need to be with you.” He was beyond flirting and teasing now. He needed her to know how he felt without any ambiguity.

Shepard twisted, turning and pushing him back, so he could kick his legs out and lie down properly. His hands on her shoulders, she climbed on top of him, her hands tracing the outlines of his muscles and tattoos, his skin sticky from the dried sweat of his earlier exercise.

“Promise me, Lola,” he pleaded.

Shepard lowered herself down, lay chest to chest with him. Her skin was hot on his, hot on his hands as they ghosted over her body.

“Shh. You’ve got me now.” She kissed him lightly, gave a wriggle that pulled him from his funk, the grind waking up his cock and reminding him where he was and who he was with.

He growled her name, pushing up and rolling them over. With the desperation he felt when he first arrived, be bore down on her, kissing her hard, her hands roaming his back, grabbing his ass, his hip, his shoulder. She arched into him, skin touching and bodies burning. Any hesitancy he felt before evaporated as he lost himself in her lips and embrace.

He kissed his way down her neck, stopping and kissing at every freckle and scar he could find. More freckles than scars, he noted, relieved. Not like him, messed up man that he was.

His hands and mouth found her breasts and he pawed and kissed and lavished attention on them. Shepard bucked up into him, her coarse hair scratching against his abs, his cock grinding against her thighs. Shepard gently prised his hand off her breast, lacing her palm over the back of his hand, guiding his fingertips to her nipple, showing him just how she liked it: slow, soft. She gasped, thrust up harder under him. He’d been too rough, he realised, too desperate. There were some things he could savour, and this moment was one of them.

Her hand left his, seemingly content that he’d continue with his newfound gentleness, and found its way up his arm, squeezing his forearms and biceps whenever he hit a sweet spot. With his fingers still circling, James kissed his way down over her own abs, stopping once to concentrate on a scar next to her belly button. He’d have to ask her about it later. But he was on a mission and couldn’t be distracted for long. He moved down again and as he nosed her damp curls, his body slipped off hers, the sheets cool against his sweat-soaked skin. She drew her legs up, planting her feet either side of his broad shoulders, legs open wide. He took a moment to just be. To just smell her, drink in that musk of sweat and skin. He’d imagined himself being here, doing this, undoing Shepard countless times. But it had taken the end of the world for him to gather the courage to make it happen.

Her moan echoed through his ears, vibrated through his tongue, as he made that first lick. She tasted just like he’d dreamed. The slick tang mixed with his own saliva and he licked again.

He ached to hear that moan again, to feel her writhe beneath him. He lost himself in her folds. Methodical flicks applied at just the right place earned him the most delicious moan. He drew them out of her, satisfaction burning through him, before moving on, not letting her go too soon. Tonguing her entrance--wet and warm and salty--had her gasping and canting her hips, while rubbing his stubble on soft inside of her thigh had her sucking in her breath, hands fisting the sheets.

He kissed and flicked and nosed her, rolling her nipple between his fingers while holding her hip with his free hand, not too tight, he remembered. He shifted his own hips, grinding against the sheets to relieve his own tension. His cock was hard now, brain and balls fully focussed on the present and not the future.

A thin sheen of sweat broke out over Shepard’s belly and he ran his hands over it. Her hips started to twitch when he pressed his tongue to her clit. So he did it again, relishing that jerk and the moan that came with it.

“James,” she groaned. “Fuck. Coming.” He continued kissing her, fingering her nipple as she shook around him and heaved in gulps of air. His own body reacted to her orgasm, a wave of heat rolling through him, cock throbbing against the sheets. She finally stilled. He lifted his head to look up at her, his thumb just caressing her folds, causing her to twitch just a bit more.

An unhinged laugh escaped her when she met his eyes and he couldn’t help but grin back.

“Your face is all wet,” she giggled, reaching down to stroke his cheek, thumb gliding over the slick skin, sticky in his stubble. For once he didn’t have an answer. He just gazed up into those eyes, feeling lost again.

“C'mere,” she leaned up to pull him forward, and he followed, not bothering to wipe his face before kissing her hard again, thrusting his cock up over her entrance, the pressure not quite the same as being inside.

She snaked a hand between them, pulling on his cock, then sliding back down. He whimpered into her mouth, holding himself up so she could keep going. When the friction got too much, he whispered  _more_ . Shepard groped at the side of the bed, hand reaching for the bed-side table. James knelt up, following her, understanding her intent, his arm long enough to open the drawer and fish out the box of condoms. She took the box from his trembling fingers and with military efficiency, pulled one out, chucked the box, tore the wrapper and rolled it on. He watched her fingers on his cock, wrapped his hand around hers, squeezing and guiding her up and down his length.

“Okay. Okay.” He edged back, and she shifted her hold, positioning him. He sank in, relief washing over his body. She felt so right. So warm, so slick, wrapped tight around him. Shepard’s hands roamed his back and she gave a little thrust, encouraging him to move. Bracing himself on his fists, he looked down at her, face flushed and framed by a tangle of hair, and holy hell it was perfect.  _She_ was perfect. And he moved, pulling back, then pushing in. He started slowly, savouring the feel of her against him, admiring her half lidded eyes and the way her lips parted every time he pushed in.

But when he upped his speed, she put her hand on his chest, pushing him back.

“No. Roll over.” She said, squirming under him. He pulled out and fell back, pulling her with him. She slid on top of him, knees either side of his hips, one hand planted in the middle of his chest while the other guided him back in. They groaned together, connected again.

“This is better. You’re as big as a Brute.” She smiled down at him, cupping his cheek with a rough hand and starting her own thrusts.

But James wasn’t smiling. The raw emptiness flooded him again at the mention of that horrific creature and the comparison to him. His eyes snapped shut and the vision of a Brute bearing down on Shepard, the dust of Tuchanka whirling around them, Reaper siren blaring through the air flooded his senses. He forced his eyes open and found himself in the calm of Shepard’s cabin, the soft blue light of the fish tank bathing them. But his heart still pounded hard, his jaw locked tight. So he pulled Shepard down on to his chest, holding her tight, while he thrust up without any timing or his usual finesse.

“I can’t lose you, Lola.” He choked out the words. The fear threatening to engulf him.

“I’m not going anywhere, James.” Shepard prised her arms out of his grip, her hands around his head, holding him up, her fingers scratching through his hair, hot breath whispering his name and soothing nothings. Her words calmed his apocalyptic thoughts, her fingertips sending sparks over his scalp and raising goosebumps over his sweat covered skin. She ground down on his lap, pushing him in deeper. James sucked in a hard breath, feeling the shift and wanting more. His out-breath came as a low groan and he buried his face in her neck.

They held on to each other, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, lips to neck, rocking in an uneasy tandem, moving together to reach the inevitable conclusion. Shepard shifted her weight again, leaning up on her elbows.

“James. Look at me.”

He didn’t want to, didn’t want to leave the safety of her skin. He wanted to concentrate on the feel of Shepard moving around him, the sounds their bodies made, the sounds  _she_ made, the way her breath ghosted over his skin, the taste of her still on his tongue, and her smell, mingling with his.

But he was a lieutenant, and she was a commander.  _His_ commander. And he followed orders. When he pulled back, head hitting the pillow, his eyes didn’t focus on her, not at first. He saw the stars through her sky light and saw just how far they’d come. Shifting his gaze to Shepard’s, he saw how far they had to go. But he wasn’t scared anymore. He could face whatever tomorrow would throw at them, knowing that he was a part of this crew that had escaped a burning Earth and were now flying home, faster than light, hell bent on ending the destruction. He returned Shepard’s small smile, like they were sharing a joke that only they knew the punchline to. And he held her hips, hands moulding perfectly to the bone, thrusting up hard, hard until he couldn’t take it anymore and the stars he was seeing were floating inside the cabin, not just out there in space.

“Lola,” he moaned, eyes full of desperation as he emptied himself into her. She coaxed him down, canting her hips softly, stroking his cheek, murmuring little whines into his lips until he stilled and the sweat cooled his burning skin. She went to move, but he wrapped his arms around her, holding him to his chest again. “Not yet,” he whispered, savouring the closeness of her, the looseness of his muscles, the smell of their bodies mingling in the still air.

Finally, his grip loosened and she was able to slip off him. He turned to watch her, body lithe, skin smooth in the glow of the fish tank, cheeks flushed. He dealt with the condom, balling it up in the tissues she’d passed him, not caring where he threw it.

Without taking their eyes off each other, they buried their way under the blankets, James pulling Shepard close, relaxed, relieved; fear and tension all gone. This was what nights like these were for. But this, right now, James in Shepard’s bed, this meant more than a quick pre-mission hookup. It meant everything to him. He hoped it meant something similar to Shepard, too.

“Whatever happens tomorrow, we’ll always have this,” Shepard said, reading his mind. She traced the muscles up and down his flank slowly, slowly, till her hand stilled altogether. Her eyes heavy, blinks becoming longer and lazier until they settled closed. Her chest rose and fell in an even rhythm, soft air pushing out her nose, lulling James into his own dreamless peace.

______

James caught his last glimpse of Shepard as Kaidan dragged him up the Normandy’s ramp. The first time he’d stood here she was leaping on, saying goodbye to Anderson and Vancouver as Reapers destroyed the city. Now she was running away from him through a desolated no-man’s-land in London. And even though his heart lurched and body ached, he could still see her looking down at him with those stars behind her, so bright and close. He’d always have that. He’d always have her.

 


End file.
